hold on to me ('cause i'm a little unsteady)
by only-some-loser
Summary: The first mission that Mac and Jack work together for the DXS to go horribly wrong leaves Mac with a guilt he can't get rid of, and a bottle he can't drink fast enough.


**AN: As promised, here is the little one shot, the title of which is clearly taken from the song Unsteady by X Ambassadors. The next fic after this will be a mid-length Kingsman crossover, so be on the look out for that hopefully starting some time next week. If you haven't seen the Kingsman movies, they're about a super secret spy agency, and I highly recommend them, especially if you love found family and pseudo father-son relationships. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

* * *

The bomb was ticking down faster than normal seconds should - at least, that's what it felt like to Mac. The family that was tied to the bomb were all staring at him with wide, fearful eyes that screamed at him to save them. But the bomb was too big, and too complex, and he couldn't disarm it fast enough, and that whole family was gonna die and it would be all his fault and-

Mac broke off his thoughts and took a deep breath, Pena's words echoing in his mind. He couldn't get emotional about the bomb. That's what would kill them all. Mac refocused on the bomb, and tried to put the family attached to it out of his mind. But none of that changed the fact that the bomb was still too big, and too complex, and there was no way he was going to be able to disarm it in time. They were all going to die.

"Jack, I don't- I don't know if I can do this," he stuttered into his comms. He knew that's not what the diplomat and his family that he was trying to save wanted to hear, but it was the truth, and Mac was freaking out a bit. He hadn't dealt with a bomb like this since the Ghost back in Afghanistan. He had hoped his new job with the DXS would have less bombs, but he could never get so lucky.

"Don't worry, bud," Jack replied. "All the bad guys are taken care of, I'm comin' up to you."

But Mac was still freaking out. If he tried to separate the family from the bomb, it would go off. But the seconds were ticking down and he just didn't have enough time to stop the bomb. It wasn't going to happen. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't let this family, these people who loved their country and their two children, all die. Oh, no, he could not let those children die. What was he supposed to do? What the hell was he supposed to do? The DXS had not trained him for this, neither had the Army, and neither had Jack.

Mac kept looking at the bomb, his knife in his hand, trying to find a new angle that could help him save these people. But there was nothing he could do, and deep down, he knew it. He glanced up at Jack's sudden arrival at his side, but then looked back at the bomb. There was less than a minute left.

"Bud, we gotta go," Jack said, his voice breaking. Mac glanced up at him again and saw tears in his eyes. He'd already explained to Jack that he couldn't separate the family from the bomb, and it was clear that Jack could see that Mac couldn't disarm it.

"No, we can't! I can do this!" he shouted in reply, looking frantically between Jack, the bomb, and the family, who were now screaming at them through their gags.

"I'm so sorry," Jack said, his voice breaking again. "I'm so sorry, Mac, we have to go, now, or we're gonna die too, I'm so sorry." Jack grabbed Mac from behind and started dragging him away from the bomb, and the screaming family.

"No, we can't leave!" Mac screamed back, trying to fight Jack to get back to the bomb. He thought he felt some tears streaming down his face, but he wasn't sure. All he knew was that that family was going to die.

"I'm so sorry," Jack repeated as he continued to drag a struggling Mac out the door and up the stairs to the roof, where the helicopter was waiting for them. Jack succeeded in dragging him all the way to the helo, and onto it. He held onto Mac tight, not letting him move as he shouted at the pilot to take off, and ignored Mac as he screamed at Jack to let him go. "I'm so sorry," Jack whispered, but Mac could barely hear it against the whir of the helicopter, the burst of the bomb going off, and his own screams of anguish. Four people had just died, two of them children, and he hadn't been able to stop it. This was all his fault.

Mac's screams quickly turned to sobs, as he turned from watching the smoke to curl into Jack, who was still holding him tight - except Jack was no longer holding him to restrain him, but to comfort him. Jack sat there as he sobbed his failure, holding him and rubbing his back. If he'd glanced up at the man's face, he would've seen that Jack was crying too.

* * *

By the time they landed back at the DXS headquarters, Mac was numb. All throughout the after mission report, he answered all questions mechanically and unemotionally, and let Jack do most of the talking. He let Jack drive him back home, but he was silent until Jack asked him if he was gonna be okay on his own. Mac hadn't entertained any of Jack's earlier attempts at conversation or comfort, but he wasn't going to ignore a direct question from the man.

"Yeah," he muttered, getting out the car. "I'll be fine. I just want to be alone."

If Jack replied, Mac didn't hear it. He walked into his house and dropped his bag on the floor right beside the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Bozer was - thankfully - off visiting family for his grandma's 93rd birthday, so Mac would have the house to himself.

Mac opened his eyes and walked straight towards the kitchen. There was an unopened bottle of vodka on the top shelf beside the fridge. Reaching as high as he could, Mac just barely managed to get his fingers around it, and pulled it down. He didn't even grab a shot glass, and just moved straight to the table. Mac twisted the cap off, and took a large swig of the alcohol. It was disgusting. Shaking his head, Mac took another large sip. And another. And another. And another.

Mac ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Wasn't alcohol supposed to make him feel different? He wasn't feeling any different. In the logical part of his brain, Mac knew that since it had only been a few minutes since he started drinking, he wasn't going to feel it just yet, but the part of him that was grieving for this family that he had failed to save was telling him that he just needed to keep his head in that bottle of vodka, no matter what. So he kept drinking the disgusting liquid, and before he knew it, the bottle was half gone, and his phone was ringing.

Mac answered it without pausing to look at the number.

"Hello?" he muttered. Huh. Maybe the alcohol was affecting him just a little bit. He'd never actually truly gotten drunk before, so he didn't know exactly how it worked. He'd been buzzed plenty of times, but never drunk.

"Hey, kid, is it okay if I drive back over?" It was Jack. "I'm just really not feelin' good about leavin' you alone right now. I'm coming over even if you say no, but I wanted you to be prepared, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever, it doesn't even matter," Mac muttered in reply. "Nothin' matters." Wow, a minute ago he felt fine, but now something was definitely different, and Mac couldn't even put his finger on what. "They're dead and it's my fault. Is'all my fault."

"Put the bottle down, okay?" Jack said. "I'm on my way right now, stop drinking."

"Whatever," Mac muttered, hanging up. He took another big swig from the bottle, then another, and another, and another, and the next thing he knew, someone was taking the - nearly empty - bottle away from him. "Heyyy, come on," he said, swiveling his head to look who it was. The world swung just a little bit as he did so. He must have forgotten to lock the door. But it was Jack, who had his own key, so maybe he did lock it. Either way, Mac didn't care.

"You've had enough," Jack said sternly, but his face conveyed worry.

"It won't ever be enough," Mac said, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Not for what I've done." Still, he let Jack take the bottle, because Jack was Jack and Jack always knew best, so if Jack was telling him that it was time to stop drinking, and he felt strongly enough about it to physically take the bottle away from him, then it was probably best to stop. Besides, he'd never really been drunk before, but Jack sure had, so it was best to defer to Jack's better judgment. Wow. Judgment. That's what Mac faced for what he did. He let his head fall to his arms, which laid across the table. "It should've been me," he muttered into his arms as the tears started to fall.

"Oh, kiddo, no," Jack said, quickly sitting down in the seat right next to Mac and pulling it even closer. Jack put his arm around Mac's shoulders and pulled him close to him. "Stuff like this happens. I know it sucks, but we can't save everyone. It just doesn't work like that." Jack started gently rubbing Mac's back, and Mac would've been lying if he said he didn't find the action soothing.

And the very moment Mac thought it, he said it. "That feels really good," he muttered. Mac closed his eyes. Why did he say that? It didn't matter what felt good to him. He didn't deserve things like that after failing to save that family, those children. But maybe he already was being punished. Every minute, his stomach felt more and more...off. Was he nauseous? Sometimes people threw up when they got drunk, and he was definitely drunk, so that would make sense.

Mac groaned into his arm. "I don't wanna throw up," he said, more tears falling. He really hated throwing up. He groaned again.

"You're gonna be okay, kiddo," Jack said. "I promise you'll feel better after you throw up, even though I know you hate it. It's gonna be okay." Slowly, Jack pulled Mac more into his arms. Mac snuggled in, despite knowing that he didn't deserve that comfort.

"It's all my fault," Mac muttered. "I should've been able to save them, it's all my fault, my fault, my fa-"

"Shhhh, no it's not," Jack whispered, pulling Mac closer and rocking him slightly. "It's okay, kiddo, none of what happened is your fault. Not even a little bit of it. You did your best, and that's all that matters."

"My best wasn't enough," he replied. "It's just like what my dad used to always say, 'if your best isn't enough, then you aren't enough'. And I'm not enough, Jack, why am I never enough?" He turned further into Jack as he cried more. Why couldn't he stop crying?

"You are, Mac, you are enough," Jack insisted. "Never mind what that old man said. He was wrong. You did the best you could, and no one can expect you to pull off a miracle. I know it sucks, but there was nothing you could've done to save them. There was nothing anyone could've done."

Mac nodded into Jack's shoulder, but he didn't really believe him. He just stayed there, letting Jack hold him and rub his back as he cried softly. Mac didn't know how long they stayed like that - maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less - but he did know that when Jack started to pull away, he was not okay with that.

"No, don't," he said, latching onto Jack's arm. "Please stay. Please don't leave me. I know I deserve it but please don't leave." Mac held onto Jack as tightly as he could as he began to cry again. This sucked. He felt terrible, he had zero filter, and he couldn't stop crying. Being drunk sucked.

"It's okay," Jack said, leaning back into Mac. "I wasn't goin' anywhere, I was just gonna get a trash can, because I know how this works, and I know that you're gonna throw up soon, whether you want to or not, okay? Can I get up and grab that for you?"

After a moment, Mac nodded, and let go of Jack's arm. The man left and was back in less than thirty seconds.

"Okay, kiddo," he said, pushing the trash can right in front of Mac.

"No, I think I'm okay now," Mac muttered. "I felt sick a bit ago, but I feel a bit better now." He raised his head up a bit as if to prove a point.

"Alright then, how about we get you into bed?" Jack asked.

"Sure," Mac quickly replied, standing up suddenly, which was a major mistake. The whole world swirled around him a bit, and he stumbled on his feet. But Jack was right there, guiding him back to the table. Jack would never let him fall. But Jack was right, too, because the moment his hands touched the table, Mac knew he wasn't going to be able to let this wave of nausea pass. And he couldn't. He threw up right into the trash can that Jack pushed in front of him, again, and again. In the back of his mind, he could feel Jack making soothing noises and rubbing his back. Mac let himself fall back into the chair with a low whine as he closed his eyes. "I wanna sleeeeeep," he muttered. "I am never getting drunk again."

"I know, kiddo, I know," Jack replied with a slight chuckle, rubbing his back once again. "Let me get you something to wash your mouth out, then I'll get you into bed, okay?"

Mac nodded, and the next thing he knew, Jack was directing him to swirl some water in his mouth, then spit it out. Jack was there with a toothbrush and toothpaste too, and as embarrassing as it was, Jack helped him to do that too. But, he did feel significantly better afterwards.

"Okay, let's go," Mac said, standing up a bit more hesitantly this time. He still swayed on his feet, with his arms outstretched to prevent himself from truly tumbling into anything.

"Here, let me help you," Jack said. Then Mac was falling backwards. Wait, no he wasn't. He was in Jack's arms. Jack was carrying him. Against his better judgment, Mac turned his head into Jack's shoulder, and relaxed into his warm embrace. Jack was calming. Jack was safety. Jack was his hero. Jack was home. "Here ya go," Jack said, gently laying Mac down on his bed. Mac didn't want to let go, but he had too, so he settled for letting out a low whine at the loss of contact. If Jack noticed, he didn't say anything. But he did take off Mac's socks and shoes. "Do you want these off too?" Jack asked, tugging on Mac's jeans a bit. Mac looked at Jack for a second, and then nodded. Jack helped him get those off, but at least he managed to get his shirt off on his own.

"I want yours," Mac muttered, looking back at Jack.

"You want my what?" Jack asked. He made that face he always made when he knew exactly what Mac was asking for, he just wanted Mac to admit it.

"I want your shirt. It smells like you and it's warm and it's soft and it means you and I always sleep better with you and it means I'm safe and it smells like you and it's warm-"

"Okay, okay," Jack interrupted, gently cutting Mac off. "You can have it, kiddo." Jack tugged his shirt off, an old v-neck, and helped Mac to pull it on. As soon as it was, Mac snuggled into his bed and sighed in contentment. "I'm gonna stay here all night, okay? I'm not gonna leave you." With more strength than he would've thought he would possess in his intoxicated state, Mac pulled Jack down on top of him and forced him to snuggle into the bed too. Jack didn't try to move away.

"Okay," Mac replied. "Thanks, Jack. I love you."

If Jack said anything in reply, Mac didn't hear it. He fell asleep.

* * *

To say that Jack was concerned would be an understatement. This was absolutely not a good way to deal with one's problems. If Mac was always going to get completely wasted every time a mission failed, then he wasn't nearly as cut out for this line of work as Jack thought. He hoped that this would be just a one time thing, and now Mac would know better, but still. That mission had gone more horrifically wrong than most, so hopefully this had just been a reaction to that, and wouldn't happen again.

Mac was still asleep in his arms. He'd slept soundly through the night, never waking to throw up again. Hopefully, his hangover would be mild.

But Jack could tell the moment that Mac awoke. He went from perfectly relaxed and limp, to stiff and rigid immediately.

"I'm so sorry," Mac whispered. "I didn't mean to do any of that, I'm so sorry." Mac quickly flung himself out of bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Upon seeing Jack's shirt on him, his eyes went wide and he pulled it off as quickly as he could.

"Hey, quit it," Jack gently scolded. "It's okay, keep it." He had too many v-necks anyway.

"Jack, I'm so sorry," Mac repeated. He sounded on the verge of tears. "I promise I didn't mean to get that drunk, and I'm so sorry that you had to take care of me, and I'm so sorry for everything I said. I completely understand if you don't want to be partners anymore, I'm just so sorry."

"No, kid, slow down," Jack said, standing up and putting his hands on Mac's bare shoulders. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. I know you remember everything, which means that hopefully, you remember me saying that I love you too." He paused when Mac looked up at him in what looked like shock, and it broke Jack's heart. Like the fact that someone could love him was a shocking concept to him. "And I do love you. You're my partner, and so much more, and there is nothing you could ever do to chase me away. It's my job to protect you, even from yourself. So that means it's part of my job to take care of you when you drink a little too much, okay?"

Hesitantly, Mac nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jack cut him off.

"If you were about to say you're sorry, again, then don't even bother. You have nothin' to be sorry for, nothin'. So here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna make you the best hangover pancakes you've ever had, and then you're gonna shower, and then we are gonna have a talk, because there are some things that should be addressed, but you have nothing to worry about. I love you so much, kiddo, and there is nothing you can do to make me want to leave you." Without waiting for Mac to respond, Jack pulled him into a hug. He held him close and start running his fingers through Mac's hair. The kid was trembling slightly, so Jack just held him tighter. He would hold him forever if that was what it took to get him to see that he didn't have anything to be sorry for.

"I love you too, Jack," Mac muttered tearfully into his shoulder.

"I know, kid," Jack replied. "I know."


End file.
